It's Okay
by Nightsongx
Summary: Olivia needs someone now more than ever, and to her surprise that person just happens to be Peter. 3x09 "Marionette" Angst, but Polivia conquers all in the end. One-shot. Peter/Olivia.


**A/N:** _A little thing I wrote back when I first saw Marionette. Finally convinced myself to post it._

 _It's going to be angsty, definitely, but, of course, Polivia wins out in the end._

 _Wrote this because I felt like Olivia really needed someone during that episode, but nobody was really there for her. (except Astrid—props to her for being a great friend!)_

 _Starts out following canon, but then ends with my own touch._

 _Okay, enough of my rambling. Enjoy! (Also, sorry how the story abruptly begins mid-conversation. I wasn't quite sure how to start it.)_

* * *

"When you asked me to come back to this world with you... you said..."

"That you belonged with me." Olivia finished Peter's sentence for him quietly, starting to grow a little bit nervous at Peter's now somber tone and pitiful expression.

"And so I came back for you… for us," Peter went on slowly, "And we started seeing each other. And I explained away the differences because our relationship was different."

He paused, with a hesitant look in his eyes.

"I thought she was you, Olivia." he finished sadly.

Olivia was unable to speak. Her mind was racing, thoughts whirling around wildly in her brain. _Seeing her? Does that mean…_ Olivia nearly gasped in horror. It was all she could do to not let her facial expression betray how she was truly feeling inside.

"Does everyone know?" she whispered.

"I reported everything when I found out who she was. I'm sorry, Olivia." Peter said sincerely, obviously uncomfortable and worried how Olivia was going to react.

But she just sat there, biting down on her lip hard with eyes fixated on her coffee cup. " _I thought she was you…"_ The words rang over and over again in her mind. And those words were going to haunt her for quite some time.

* * *

Not more than 30 minutes later, Olivia was standing alone in her apartment. Having just finished her shower, she had opened her closet to find something to wear. Just the day before, this would have been a normal ordeal for her, but now, after what Peter had revealed, everything was different.

She had been happy, _so happy,_ to finally be back home that she hadn't even considered the possibility of what had happened while she was trapped over there. Reprimanding herself for being so blind, for not realizing that nothing was fine, that nothing would _ever_ be just fine, she sighed heavily.

Stealing a glance at herself in the mirror, she noticed the bangs. She noticed how different she looked, she noticed that her hair was not its usual creamy blonde, that no matter how hard she tried and how much she had dyed it, that she couldn't get rid of its reddish tint.

Running her hand through her hair to pull the bangs back, she caught a glimpse of the red mark on the back of her neck. She pulled back her hair to reveal the tattoo, _her_ tattoo.

And then the thought hit her. It was horrible, and shocking, like having a bucket of cold water dumped on your head when you'd least expect it.

" _We started seeing each other."_

 _How had she not seen it?_

Now mad, Olivia turned back to her open closet. She was mad, mad that _she_ had worn her clothes, that _she_ had slept in her bed, that _she_ had lived her life, that _she_ had… Peter…

Barely fighting down her uncontrollable rage for _her_ , Olivia pulled one of her shirts right off of its hanger and threw it on the ground. And another. And another, and another, until finally her entire wardrobe lay in an untidy heap on the ground.

Still unsatisfied, and her skin crawling with the feeling of knowing what _she_ had done, Olivia stormed over to her bed. She pulled the comforter off of the bed, carelessly tossed the pillows on the ground, and ripped the sheets clean off.

Balling it up in her arms, she walked over to her washing machine, wanting to rid the sheets of _her._

Olivia opened it and was annoyed to realize it wasn't empty. Dropping the sheet to the ground, she begin to sift through its contents, until she pulled out a very familiar grey shirt with the letters written in all capitals, "M.I.T."

Her heart dropped and she found it strangely difficult to breathe. It was Peter's.

Rage now dying away to be replaced by raw and bitter grief, Olivia clutched the damp shirt to her chest, smelling his scent all over it, suddenly longing for Peter's gentle touch, his kind words and soft, blue eyes…

Fighting to not lose control, she gripped the side of the washing machine tightly, trying to push all of the horrible reality of her situation away, but the thoughts kept coming back.

 _"We started seeing each other."_

 _"I thought she was you."_

Everything was so unfair. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn't supposed to happen.

She had trusted Peter, so much that in fact, she was very sure she had and would trust him with her life.

But then this… _her_ … him…

Why did it have to come to this?

Olivia had _loved_ Peter with every fiber of her being, and then for him to betray her like this, it was simply _too much._

Unable to bear the heartbreak and the agony of it all, Olivia collapsed on the ground in a crumpled heap. She buried her face in her hands as she began sobbing uncontrollably.

Broken and feeling as if no one in the world cared about her pain, she crouched there on the floor beside her washing machine crying her heart out.

* * *

She had no idea how long she had sat there crippled by her pain, until a knock on the door roused her from her grief-stricken state.

Pulling herself together, she stood up slowly and walked over to the door, not bothering to wioe the tears from her cheeks because she simply didn't care anymore.

Wondering who it could possibly be, she opened the door and had to force herself not to recoil in shock at the sight of a softly smiling Peter on her doorstep.

Peter's smile instantly melted and he looked at her with a mixture of concern and guilt. Olivia couldn't imagine how horrible she must look to him, standing in the doorway in a black bathrobe with wet, matted hair and tearstains on her cheeks.

He reached out to grab her hand, but she pulled it away sharply and flinched, face contorted with pain.

"Olivia, I—" Peter began, searching desperately for something he could say to her, something to make her heartache go away.

Hurt and angry, Olivia turned away from Peter and walked back into the hallway. Peter followed behind her and walked around to face her.

"What are you doing here?" Olivia asked coldly, still avoiding eye-contact with him and staring steadily at her feet.

"I came to make sure you were okay," Peter said, a hint of shame creeping into his voice. "Which you obviously aren't." he added.

Olivia finally forced her eyes up to look at Peter, and was surprised to see her own sorrow reflecting back at her from his eyes.

"I know what you're going through, and that it's a lot to take in, but Olivia, _please_ —"

"Did you honestly thing that things were just going to back to normal after what happened?" Olivia cut him off, her voice still bitter.

At a loss for words, Peter shooks his head solemnly. "No, but Olivia… I'm sorry. I really am."

Olivia's face merely hardened further at his words.

"Everything, _everything_ that we did together, it was all meant for you. Olivia, I didn't know. I thought she was you…" he pleaded, begging her to forgive him.

Finally, Olivia's cold mask broke, as his words got through to her.

Olivia had thought that she never wanted to see Peter again, but now, all she wanted was to melt into his warm embrace and for all of their troubles to fade away.

And so she collapsed into his arms, defeated, and grief once more overwhelming her.

Peter welcomed her, wrapping his arms around her frame, hoping to provide some kind of comfort for her. He hadn't realized how much pain she must be in, and cringed, remembering it was he who had brought it on to her.

It took him a moment to realize that she was crying again, feeling a slight dampness on his shirt. At this, he began to stroke her back gently, whispering, "Oh Olivia… how can you ever forgive me?"

"It's okay…" she said softly, pressing her face into his shirt and clutching his sides. "I forgive you."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Huh. That wasn't so bad, was it?_

 _The reason I never posted this sooner was because I must have accidentally saved it to a different folder than my FanFiction one, and then I kinda just forgot about it. I recently found it while cleaning out my files, and then decided to post it after revising it._

 _I'm actually quite proud of it, considering how difficult it is for me to write Olivia. She's quite a complex character!_

 _Speaking of which, can we just bury Anna Torv in Emmies, especially for this episode, because oh my god… I remember watching this scene for the first time, and I had to rewatch it a few times because I was just so impressed with how amazing Anna portrayed Olivia. Seriously, that woman is very underrated considering her immense talent! She deserves much more recognition than she has!_

 _Okay, I know at the ending Olivia was very quick to forgive Peter, but I did write this after watching Marionette… you can't blame me for having a Polivia withdrawal. Anyway, I've written so many angst fics that I just wanted something to end happy (well, bittersweet) for a change._

 _Reviews appreciated, though you don't have to if you don't want to :p_


End file.
